In the Ricksuit of Happiness
by Catlikestv
Summary: Rick can't stand idiots. He can't stand the mediocre. But more than anything, he can't stand other geniuses. And in a way, Rick Sanchez is all three, which explains why Rick can't stand himself. It's not until a loose thread comes back to haunt him that he finally begins to question what it is, if anything, that really makes him happy. Rick gets existential in this one, Broh.
1. Episode 1

_**~Cold Open~**_

"I don't need a father figure."

"Oh yeah? What, cuz you have such a great mother figure?"

"..."

"Thought so. Hand me that wrench." Rick stuck his hand out from underneath the pile of junk he was perched under, what he called his 'car'. It looked like garbage to Rachel. She was leaning against the table on the far side of the garage, scowling at the pair if legs sticking out from the heap Rick said would somehow fly. "Hey, whoohoo, wrench!"

"It's not my fault you feel guilty for abandoning your family. I don't see why I should have you inflicted on me because they weren't enough for you." She was trying to be nasty on purpose now, and Rick sighed heavily from under the car, and slid out suddenly, glaring up at the teenager. Getting to his feet, he dusted his jacket off, before walking right up to her. She glared defiantly into his face, nearly as tall as him.

"Wrench," he said simply, furrowing his brow. That threw Rachel off guard, and all she did was stutter in confusion.

"Huh?"

"Wrench." He repeated, and then reached past her, to the wrench sitting on the table behind her. "What are you, deaf?" He turned then and sat back down, shimmying back under the car.

"I'm trying to piss you off here!"

"Yeah, I know. Don't you think I know better than to let some weakass insults from a teenage girl hurt my feelings?"

"Weak?"

"'You abandoned your family, Rick, you're an asshole Rick!'" His impersonation of the girl's voice was terrible, and her face burned red in response. "Why don't you try telling me something I don't already know."

"Alright! You're a moron if I think I can't see why you're here!"

"Oh yeah?" Rick punctuated his response with a loud burp, one hand patting around the ground beside the car in search of his flask. "And why's that? What AM I here for?"

"You feel bad you left your daughter without a father and you're using me to alleviate your guilt. You don't know how to say sorry to people you hurt so you're trying to make up for it to people who you never hurt in the first place!"

"Or, or!" Still in search of his flask, he kept missing it, patting the ground everywhere it wasn't. "Maybe the brainwaves that result in my genius are a one is seven quintillion chance, and out of the infinite iterations of Earth in infinite iterations of the universe, they happened to replicate again in you. And maybe I'm smart enough to realize that if the multiverse is populated only by hyper intelligent Rick's, the one chance we have to capitalize on a completely separate and impressionable expression of genius is one we shouldn't pass up!" Finding his flask, he pulled it under the car with him, and Rachel could hear him take a swig, and burp again. "No, you're right, it's just to live out some redemption fantasy with you that I could have lived out with any girl, or any reiteration if my OWN daughter in another universe. How stupid of me."

"Eat shit, Rick, I know as well as anyone if there was someone as smart as you out there, every Rick in the multiverse would be scrambling to be the one to kill it." Rachel scowled as he looked out from under the car again.

"So, so what? You think other Ricks WEREN'T scrambling to kill you?"

"...Er….were they?" The two of them stared at each other for a long time, until Rick got back out from under the car, and shut the hood with a clang.

"Who knows. I'm just here to live out the fantasy of being a good dad, right?" Taking another drink, he offered the flask to Rachel, who looked from it to Rick warily.

"You're doing a terrible job you know." She took a sip of the liquor in the flask, making a face.

"Darn." Banging his fist once on the closed hood, a mechanical whirr kick-started the engine, and the heap of junk sprung to life. "Doing a better job than your real old man at least."

"Barely." she said. Rick smirked a little at that, and Rachel handed him back the flask.

"What do you know. That microverse battery of yours works."

"You doubted me?" The girl crossed her arms as she came to stand beside Rick. "The microverse battery is the only thing in this heap of junk that's worth anything."

"Okay okay, calm down, no need to bend over backwards kissing your own ass. The idea was good. Good job."

"Thank you." The two of them stood admiring their joint effort for a moment, before Rick moved to open the passenger side door.

"Alright, let's take this baby for a test drive!" He said, sliding into the passenger's seat.

"Aren't you gonna drive it?" Rachel asked.

"I am waaaaaay too sloshed to drive this thing," he said, leaning back in the chair, folding his arms behind his head.

"But you built it!"

"Look, are you gonna drive, or not?" Rachel whined, glancing from the less than perfect craftsmanship of the ship to the salt and peppered man making himself comfortable in the cockpit.

"You're not supposed to let anyone under 15 practice driving you know," she said, citing the driver's Ed manual she got at school.

"Nor am I supposed to let them drink or supervise the tessellation of a modified temporal field. Get in."

"You really are a terrible father figure." She didn't argue anymore, though, climbing into the driver's seat. Her feet barely reached the pedals. "Now what?"

"That's the thrust lever, and that one controls lift. Shift them both into gear at the same time and we should have liftoff." Rick leaned forward to indicate the levers, watching as Rachel uncertainly shifted both into gear, overshooting a bit, and suddenly sending them hurtling upwards, through the roof of their garage. "What the hell, Rachel!"

"You said shift them at the same time!" Grabbing hold of the wheel and stomping on the gas impulsively, the car jerked forward, before hurtling off to the right.

"After we'd cleared the garage! Now our roof is fucked up!"

"You shouldn't have let me drink and drive!" Spinning the wheel in the opposite direction to try and correct herself, they shot off in the opposite direction this time, both passengers pressed back firmly against their seats.

"Ease up on the gas, Rachel, Jesus!" Reaching over and grabbing the wheel from her, Rick steadied their trajectory as Rachel took her foot off the gas,instead stomping on the break. Her own seatbelt restrained her, but Rick wasn't wearing his, and ended up smacking face first into the windsheild.

"Oh Jesus!" She gasped, clapping her hands to her mouth as Rick pulled away from the glass, revealing a bloody nose. "Rick, are you okay!?"

"Aside from the massive concussion and whiplash you just gave me? Yup. Just peachy." Collapsing back into his seat, he groaned. "...Maybe I shouldn't have let you drive." There was a long pause after that statement, before Rachel burst out laughing. "What? What's funny?"

"I was right, and you were wrong! And you just admitted it!" She laughed, beaming.

"Whoa whoa, I said 'maybe.'" Rick couldn't help but smile as Rachel wiped her eyes, and turned back to the wheel. "Try not to kill us this time." After a bit more trial and error, but fortunately none as severe as that first onslaught, Rachel had the hovercraft cruising at a high altitude and a steady clip. She smiled to herself, glancing over at Rick. His eyes were closed and his nose had finally stopped bleeding.

"You know," she said, turning her gaze back to the open sky ahead of them. "I really don't need a father figure."

"Is that right?" Rick didn't open his eyes when he answered, just enjoying the steady pace of their flight.

"No. It was you after all that told me once that when given a non familial father figure, girls tend to take on an Electra complex anyway."

"What? When did I say that?" He did look up at that. "Was I shitfaced?"

"Yeah."

"Look, Rachel, don't listen to anything shitfaced Rick has to say. That guy's a dick."

"Didn't you say you're shitfaced right now?"

"Fuck, I am aren't I?" Rachel laughed again, swirling slightly to miss a flock of geese. "Listen, sometimes I'm just talking out of my ass. And you're a pain in MY ass but, trust me, that Electra complex thing isn't even real."

"I guess not. I can't imagine finding you anything but an aggravating douche."

"Okay, ouch. I can't imagine thinking you're anything more than a dumb brat."

"So we're even." She smiled, and the two of them sat in contented silence as they crossed the open ocean. And in that moment, Rachel was actually sort of glad Rick was using her to be rid of some of his guilt. She was actually pretty thankful that Rick was here. And she hoped that would never change.

* * *

 _ **~Episode One~**_

"Hey, Morty, hand me that wrench."

"You know what Summer? I'm sick of your shit!"

"Oh, you're sick of MY shit?"

"Y-yeah! I'm sick of it! Sick of all of it!"

"And how about you? You think I just LOVE walking in on you jerking it in every bathroom in the house!?"

"Morty, the wrench."

"That's what doors are for Summer! Doors! For knocking! You should try it sometime!"

"Maybe you should lock them then!"

"Jesus christ!" Standing up from his workbench, Rick shoved the swivel chair out of the way, sending it spinning, and shoved past his grandkids who thought it was just the perfect place to have their inane arguments in the middle of Rick's work space. "Can't a guy ever get his fucking wrench? What-...what is it with you kids and this fucking wrench?"

"Hey!" Summer whined, scowling as she was pushed out of the way.

"Huh?" Morty looked a bit confused by that comment, but quickly went back to glaring at his sister.

"Now if you two are done with whatever bullshit it is you're fighting about." Sneering at the two of them, Rick pressed the garage opener, and pointed outside to the driveway as it slowly slid up and out of the way. "Out. Now. Grandpa is working."

"You know Rick, this was our house before you came along," Morty said, crossing his arms.

"Yeah, we were technically here first, so maybe YOU should get out." Summer, ever the fickle teenager, gave her Grandpa that 'look' that Rick despised so much. The one with that tiny stupid half smirk that just boiled Rick's blood. That prissy bitch look that Rick liked to think came from Jerry but really came from Beth, ergo his own genes. Rick hated to see things he hated in his own grandkids, because it meant it had come from him.

"If you want to get technical, Summer, I was here first since I was born way before either of you. And Morty, Beth was MY daughter before she was YOUR mom so maybe the two of you should move out already and leave me the fuck alone?" He shrugged, not really going to enforce either of them leaving, but returned to his work bench with the wrench.

"We're beloved children," Summer countered in that uppity voice of hers, and Rick pinched the bridge of his nose.

"And I'm the long lost prodigal father. Look, we're all very important to your mother, so what I'm saying is this; if you want to keep all your limbs, therefore making your mother happy, maybe you two should get out before I tear them off and slap you with your own severed arms." Giving them both a pointed look, he swivelled around in his chair, turning his back to them. Summer just rolled her eyes, but Morty walked up behind Rick, peeking over his shoulder.

"What are you working on, Rick?" He watched as Rick tightened a few bolts and what appeared to be a pretty nondescript box.

"Like you would even understand." Setting the wrench down, Rick clicked the small box into what appeared to be the frame of a large motherboard, and reached for his soldering gun. Behind him, Morty's face fell a bit.

"Grandpa Rick, why are you such an asshole all the time," Summer asked, setting her hand on Morty's shoulder.

"Oh, I don't know Summer, maybe it's because I'm a motherfucking genius constantly surrounded by the one thing worse than a bunch of idiots; a bunch of mediocre slobs." Stabbing the end of the soldering gun accusingly at Summer, before reaching for his mask. "You- ...you all tell yourselves you're better than the idiots, and maybe you are, but the way you laze around in your own slovenly mediocrity is-" interrupting himself with a burp, "frankly, stifling."

"Yeah? You can't stand being around other Ricks either!" Summer pointed out. "You hate the Citadel of Ricks, you said a real Rick would never submit to being around other Ricks!"

"Yeah, and it's true. What, you think you're the only one who thinks I'm an asshole? I KNOW I'm an asshole. I'd kill myself before spending even one more hour on the Citadel surrounded by those Rick-bastards."

"So, what? You can't be around us because we're so mediocre, and you can't be around other geniuses because they're all insufferable?" Rick was getting pretty tired of arguing with Summer. Leaning back in his chair, he rubbed his eyes.

"I didn't say other geniuses, Summer, I said other Ricks. Jesus, what are you, deaf?"

"Is there a difference? I thought Ricks were the only geniuses in the multiverse?" This time, it was Morty who piped up. Rick just stared at him for a long time, and uncomfortably long time.

"...You got me, Morty. You got Grandpa. Will you leave me alone now that you've verbally bested me?" His tone was flat as he said this, and his two grandkids shared a brief look, before turning to go.

"Rick couldn't handle a non-Rick genius," Morty mumbled as he and Summer returned to the house.

"He'd probably end up killing it." Rick watched them go silently, just staring after them, and then slowly turned back to his work.

 ** _~oo~_**

"Heyyyyy Morty!" In his usual fashion, Rick burst into Morty's room, wholey unannounced, much to his grandson's annoyance. Didn't matter how often Morty told these people not to burst in on him without knocking; his family just seemed to be dense as hell, even the so called genius.

"What Rick?" he sighed, closing his laptop and glancing out the window.

"Still mad at me about calling you a mediocre slob earlier, huh?" Rick grinned, fishing around in his coat pocket. Morty didn't answer that, but it was pretty clear. "Aww, come on Morty. Morty, m-my old, my old pal, old pal-o-mine!" Sitting on the bed next to him, Rick pulled his grandson into a forced side hug, finally fishing out two pieces of paper from his lap coat, shoving them into Morty's hands. "Is it really nothing two tickets to the breakout summer hit, Ball Fondlers; Gratuitous Death-War, can't fix?

"Whoa, what?" Morty perked up at that, his face lighting up. "There's another movie!?"

"Oh, yeah Morty, it's the epic cross-over, 'every character you love dies' event of the year! But don't worry, Morty, there's rumors the ones you love aren't dead forever!"

"Man, I dunno Rick…..you really hurt Summer's feelings you know, and mine. If every time you're a grumpy dick to us you try and win us back over with fancy gifts and trinkets, how is that relationship any different than an abusive one?" Rick gave him a blank look at that, before unscrewing his flask and taking a drink.

"I hear there's a topless scene with that one big-titty character you like so much."

"I'll get my coat." Jumping out of bed and grabbing his shoes, the two of them made their way down to the garage. "What about Summer?"

"Yeah, let me tell you, Morty. Offering that big titty topless scene as an incentive to your sister….did not go over well."

"Yeah but, you hurt Summer too, Rick." Rick just shrugged.

"When is your sister NOT mad about something?"

"Rick…" Morty wanted to go on, but he sensed that Rick's generosity was fleeting, and if he pushed the matter, he wasn't going to get to see that sweet ass Ball Fondler's movie. So for the sake of sick action scenes, a tasteful amount of sprayed guts, and hopefully a nipple or two, he shut his trap. Sitting in silence the entire car ride, he handed the pair of tickets over to the usher at the theater, who just so happened to be a disconcertingly large spider in a vest, and followed his Grandpa into the darkened theater.

 _ **~oo~**_

"Beth? Could you…?" Beth rolled her eyes as Jerry called for her down the hall. Sticking her head through the doorway, she saw her husband standing at the top of the staircase, stuck in his shirt and desperately trying to get free.

"Jerry how did you-!" She was about to chastise him, when he suddenly tripped, and tumbled headfirst down the stairs. "Oh my god, Jerry!" Her husband crumpled into a pile at the bottom of the stairs, simpering like a wounded puppy, as Beth yanked his shirt down from around his head, checking him over for anything broken. "Jesus christ, Jerry, what the hell happened?"

"I got stuck in my shirt," he said, somewhat bashfully, and even though she was worried he'd hit his head, Beth couldn't suppress an eyeroll.

"Oh Jerry…." Both husband and wife turned then as the doorbell rang, and where Beth had been supporting Jerry's head, she dropped him, causing the back of his head to conk against the ground.

"Doorbell!" Summer called from the other room, though it was obvious she wasn't getting up to answer it.

"Yes, Summer, thank you," Beth said, standing up. "That was so helpful!"

"Sarcasm like that is why your marriage is hanging on by a thread!" she called back, to which her mother scoffed.

"What would she know about marriages hanging on by threads," she mumbled to herself, walking over to the door. Opening it up about halfway, she looked out into the crisp evening air, to see a woman standing on their doorstep. "Yes? Can I help you?"

"Sorry to bother you," the young woman said, quickly tucking something that Beth didn't quite see into her coat pocket. "Does Rick Sanchez live here? I mean….I know he lives here, but is he here? Like right now?" The woman on the other side of the door shuffled her feet slightly in her oversized coat. Beth could tell it was pretty tent-y on her, as it sloped awkwardly off her shoulders, which weren't nearly broad enough to keep the coat sitting on them perfectly. It looked like a men's coat.

"Uh….no," Beth replied, a little put off by that statement, closing the door juuust a bit more. "He went to a movie with my son. Why?"

"You're Beth, aren't you?" That took Beth right off guard, and the hair on the back of her neck stood up. The woman pulled the coat a little closer as a slight breeze ruffled her hair, long brunette strands she had stuffed up into a messy bun on top of her head.

"No. Who wants to know?"

"I know you are, I was just giving you the chance to- ….ah, sorry. I'm doing it again." The girl shook her head, closing her dark grey eyes, and stooping her shoulders slightly. "Look, I knew your father a while back, and I'd really like to say hi while I'm in town. Do you know when he's coming back?"

"'Knew him a while back?'" There was a part of Beth, a large part, that thought this was sketchy beyond belief but….there was always that part of her that was so desperately craving even a glimpse of her father, especially during the time he had…..the time he wasn't around.

"Beth, who is it?" Jerry asked, rubbing the back of his head as he came to stand beside his wife.

"It's….an old friend of my father's," she said finally, opening the door all the way. "Come in, it's getting dark. They'll probably be back within the hour."

"Great," the young woman said, visibly relieved as she stepped across the threshold. She looked around as Beth closed the door behind her, adjusting her glasses. The damn things were ancient, and didn't really fit her face well (since they weren't actually made for her face) and kept sliding down her nose. "Nice place."

"And you are?" Jerry asked, raising an eyebrow at the girl and his wife's peculiar behavior. Beth seemed all too pleased to lead this stranger into the living room and shoo Summer's feet off the sofa so she had a place to sit.

"Rachel S- ...ssss….." Looking around, her dark eyes fixed on a silver plated spoon sitting in an empty bowl on the coffee table. "...Silverspoon. Rachel Silverspoon."

"Silverspoon?" Jerry squinted at this girl for a long moment. "That sounds…. Like a name that comes from money!" His face brightened up at that, and Rachel's shoulders relaxed; it seemed that Beth, despite being the daughter of a genius, had married a buffoon.

"Or like a fake name," Summer said flatly without looking up from her phone. Rachel gave her a wary glance but it didn't seem like the teenager was that intent on proving that point, and Rachel wondered if she was just trying to be contrary to her father.

"Summer, hush. Can I get you anything, Rachel? We have juice, wine….more wine…"

"No, no, I, uh...I don't drink." she said quickly, declining before she gave herself the chance to give in. "I'm fine, but thank you."

"So how do you know my father?" Beth sat across from her in the armchair, clearly interested in this newcomer. "I'm sorry to admit but I don't think he's ever mentioned you, not by name anyway."

"And we would remember a wealthy name like Rachel Silverspoon!" Jerry put in.

"Oh...I expected as much," Rachel said, something close to disappointment crossing her face for the briefest of moments. "He sort of popped into and out of my life pretty quick when I was younger. I guess I didn't really know him THAT well, but….he has a way of making a big impression with even the smallest actions I guess."

"I know how that feels." Beth gave her a reassuring smile, but it faltered quickly. "Wait, how long ago did you know my father? You don't look a day over thirty."

"...I'm 26 but okay. And I was barely a teenager when I met him, just a couple days after my 12th birthday."

"Okayyy, how did a 12 year old meet and befriend an old man?" Jerry was sitting next to Rachel, a bowl of M&Ms on his lap; he was trying to throw one into his mouth but kept missing. "I MEAN I know Rick is weird but-"

"He was just sort of….around." Rachel moved her hands in a vague gesture. "I spent a lot of time alone as a kid, so there really was no adults around to say 'hey, don't hang out with that angry old man who drinks and rips holes in the fabric of the universe!' haha…"

"Wouldn't have mattered, Mom and Dad are always around here and they still don't tell me and Morty that." Summer still had her nose pressed against her phone but was obviously listening to the conversation.

"Summer!" Beth waved her comments off. "So what brings you to town Rachel?"

"Just some….business." Rachel's hands were buried in her pockets, and at that she subtly patted the cold metal barrel concealed there. She glanced at the clock inconspicuously...she just couldn't wait for Rick to get home.

 _ **~oo~**_

"I can't believe you started crying!"

"Shut up, Morty!" Rick yanked the door to the car open, a few empty bottles clamoring out onto the pavement at his feet. Morty followed suit on the passenger's side, clicking himself into his seatbelt. His grandfather sat in the driver's seat,fishing around in the backseat briefly, coming up with a half empty bottle and taking a long drink, before throwing it out the window. "So- ...so sue me if I think it's a cheap bit that they play off your fragile emotions by killing off THE ONLY REDEEMABLE CHARACTERS!"

"They sure played off your fragile emotions, huh Rick?" Morty laughed as Rick shifted the car into gear and took off. "You know, I wasn't even mad there was no nip slips! That ending was so devastating, I didn't even remember there was no boobs!" Rick just grunted at that, still sour over the ending. Morty smiled as he leaned against the window, watching them ascend out of the atmosphere. Most of their ride home was pretty uneventful, aside from Rick swerving pretty suddenly to try and hit a space possum. It wasn't until they were nearly home that Morty cleared his throat. "Uh, so….th-thanks for taking me to the movies Rick but….you know you still have to apologize to my sister, right?"

"Oh jeez, Morty, am I gonna get crucified for the rest of my life for-"

"You know Rick, you- ….you, you don't know how to say sorry to people you hurt so you're trying to make up for it to people who you never hurt in the first place. But you know I'm not the one you have to say sorry to!" Rick just slowly turned to look at Morty, one eye twitching slightly. What in the fuck was he talking about?

"What did you say?" He asked it not threateningly like he usually did; he was honestly surprised to hear those words come out of Morty's dumb, dumb face.

"You know I can handle you being an asshole, Rick! But Summer cares way more about what you think than I ever do!" Morty scowled; he and his sister didn't get along all the time, but she was still his sister. And he could tell when her feelings were hurt.

"...Fine! Fine, I'll apologize to your dumb sister! Geez, Morty, is that what you wanted to hear?"

"And no….no trinkets! You can't hide behind stuff instead of apologizing!"

"Jesus christ, what is this, shit on Grandpa day?" Landing the car in the driveway, Rick stepped out, shaking his head. Morty was rather satisfied with that, and followed him up the walkway to the front door. Rick tossed the keys into the key bowl by the front door and burped as he shrugged off his coat, walking into the living room. "Beth, sweetie! We're home.!"

"Hey, Dad!" Beth was sitting on the armchair, and excitedly turned to smile at him as he entered. Jerry was sitting on the ottoman and Summer was sitting indian style on the edge of the couch, but there was another person sitting in between them all. Someone Rick didn't immediately recognize from the back. Even when she turned to glance at him over the back of the couch, he didn't recognize those dark grey eyes that peered so inquisitively at him. "We have company! She's an old friend she says, and she-"

"Damn, you aged like shit."

The family froze at that. But Rick wasn't paying attention to the rest of the family. He was only looking at this newcomer. There was something in her voice, some snarky note in her voice that reminded him of Summer. Of Beth. She REALLY reminded him of his daughter, especially with that look on her face as she stood and faced him. And it was then that Rick could finally place where he knew this woman from.

"And I thought you were dead."

All hell broke loose after those words. Summer was the quickest; despite being on her phone half the night she was really the only one who found this woman suspicious, and as Rachel pulled the homemade-looking gun from her oversized coat pocket, Summer jumped up, grabbing onto her arm and knocking her aim off. The gun quickly fired off two bursts that singed their way through the ceiling and eventually the roof, and a few seconds later a couple of louder explosions could be heard going off several miles up above their house. Jerry screamed, Morty and Beth were shouting, but after the initial firing of the gun, the only two still figures in the room were Rick, and Rachel.

"What the hell!" Beth screeched, "Dad, are you okay?"

"I knew we couldn't trust the wealthy!" Jerry stabbed a finger accusingly at Rachel from behind the armchair.

"I'm fine, sweetie," Rick said, rubbing his face. "...Rachel, why are you here?"

"I mean, I thought it was obvious?" Yanking her arm away from Summer, recocking the gun, the gentle whir and green glow indicating that it was charging back up.

"You've tried to kill me how many times now?"

"Just about as many as you've tried to kill me." Neither was flinching under the other's gaze.

"And how many times has that worked for you?"

"187. But it's never been 'you'. Just different Ricks. Some that knew their own Rachels. Some that didn't."

"Pretty lucky the Council of Ricks is long gone," Rick said, cracking a small smile. "They never did like dead Ricks."

"Okay, Grandpa, what's going on!?" Summer asked, her gaze swinging wildly between the two. One second, this stranger with an obviously fake name was trying to kill Rick, and the next they were….bantering?

"It's okay, Summer. I know this asshole." Walking into the kitchen, Rick fetched a couple of beers, and returning to the living room, he tossed one at the newcomer, who caught it without hesitation.

"I don't drink anymore, Rick," Rachel said, looking at the beer in her hand and setting it down on the coffee table.

"Really? Damn, no wonder you turned to murder."

"Okay, Rick!" Morty interjected here, clearly confused. "What the hell is going on here? You know her!?" Rick took a long drink, wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve, but before he could answer, Rachel pulled something else out of her pocket, and tossed it at Rick. It landed on the coffee table and slid towards him.

"Your portal gun?" Beth asked, incredulous that her father would let that thing out of his sight. Even Rick seemed slightly surprised by that.

"...So that's how you found me."

"Maybe don't leave your shit around where your protege can tinker with it." Rachel sat down then, setting the first gun on the table with a sigh. Jerry, up until this point, had been silent, but squinted at Rachel then.

"...You're not really rich, are you?"

"No," Rick answered for her, as she glared.

"Then who are you?" Jerry was clearly the most confused of the bunch, though no one could quite figure out what was going on. Rick sighed heavily.

"I raised her," he supplied, taking another drink.

* * *

 _ **~After Credits Scene~**_

Rick sat with his feet propped up on the seat in front of him, despite the peeved look on the man who sat in the seat below him his feet were on.

"Sir?" he asked, turning around briefly as the before-movie ads were playing.

"Shhhh!" Rick shushed, shoving a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

"Sir, can you get your feet off my seat?"

"Eat shit." Rick replied, and Morty elbowed him in the ribs. "Ow, jeez!"

"Rick! Get your feet down!"

"Oh, why? Why is his sense of comfort more important than mine? I'm-I'm an ooold man, Morty! Maybe my back is bad and I NEED to have my feet up!"

"Your back is fine, Rick, and you know it! You're being a dick again!"

"Oh, here we go again-"

"Sir! Get your feet down or I'm telling the usher!" The man was turned fully to stare at Rick in the darkness, to which he just laughed.

"Oooooh, the usher! O-ooohhh, I'm so scared!" He laughed that barking, cynical laugh of his in the man's face, but just then, a few pairs of giant-spider feet dangled over Ricks head, poking at his face with their spider-hairs. "Hey, oh, what the fuck!"

"Ha ha, Rick, serves you right!" Morty chortled, relaxing back in his seat then, and even the man who'd been yelling at Rick seemed to settle down at this kind of irony, turning back to the movie.

"Hey, hey, get your gross hairy legs off my seat!" Rick whisper-yelled, trying to shove the spider legs away, but the spider in question just shrieked terrifyingly out of it's fanged jaws, causing whatever complaints Rick still had to die in his throat. Huffing and turning back to the screen, he dropped back into his seat with his arms crossed, grumbling as he tried to deal with the spider legs in his face.


	2. Episode 2

_**~Cold Open~**_

Rick sat with one arm flung over the back of the couch as the TV blared, casually eating a box of Eyeholes. Behind the couch, Rachel was scowling as she dragged the unconscious body of Eyehole Man out to the garage.

"Save some for me, damn, I knocked the guy out!" she said, wiping her forehead as she unceremoniously tossed the cape-clad home intruder out of the house. Rick just burped, ruffling around in the box to fish out another. Rachel rolled her eyes, hopping over the back of the couch and plopping down next to the old man, snatching the box away.

"Good thinking with that booby trap," Rick said, glancing over as he flipped channels. "Wh- who, who would have guessed Eyehole Man's vision is thermal based and he'd fall for a microwaved sack of flour dummy?"

"Yeah, well, I guess you WOULD have to be a genius to pick up on the clues," the teenager replied, tossing an eyehole up in the air and catching it in her mouth. Rick laughed, snatching the next eyehole she tossed out of the air before she could catch it.

"You're a little asshole, you know that? Where the hell did that come from?"

"Oh, jeez Rick, yeah, I wonder!" Kicking her feet up on the coffee table, Rachel reached for her flask, modelling the stellar adult influence Rick had had on her thus far, taking a deep swig of whiskey. Rick's own flask was sitting open on the end table, but his smile faded just a bit as he watched Rachel drink.

"Hey, it's 8 am. Slow down a little, huh?" He wasn't really the type to give even a single shit about how drunk someone was, considering he was drunk like ninety percent of the time. But there was something unsettling about watching his protege slowly build up her tolerance to hard alcohol day by day, especially when it was his example that had led her to this kind of binge drinking. Rachel just scoffed at him, rescrewing the lid to her flask.

"Like you're one to talk, old man."

"Yeah….yeah, whatever I guess." Making a conscious decision to not care about it, Rick chose to ignore that little problem for the moment, going back to leisurely watching TV. But he couldn't really ignore it, not truly. She was only 16...even Rick hadn't been binge drinking like that at 16. "...But seriously, knock it off with the morning drinking."

"Okaaaay." The sarcasm was thick in her voice, but as Rick frowned at her, her grin died off as well. "What? ...Like, seriously?"

"Yeah, Rach, seriously. It's….it's not good for your liver."

"Um, says the guy who sleeps cuddled next to a full bottle of bourbon at night?"

"I'm old, Rachel! Plus I'm the guiding parental figure here. I can choose to do whatever I want to this ol- this old bag of bones. But what I say goes."

"You're not my dad." This was a phrase Rachel used often, but it was usually used in jest. Now she was staring directly at Rick, ever trace of a smile gone from her features. She wasn't joking.

"I may as well be!" Rick made a grab for her flask, but she jerked it out of his reach before he could get ahold of it. "Who bought you this house to live in, huh? Wh- who helped you get your driver's license? Who bought you the clothes on your back? And for that matter, who buys this booze?"

"Where the hell is this coming from?" Rachel stood up then, confused and angry at the sudden turn of Rick's demeanor. They were having a great morning, and he had to go and ruin it by being all paternal again? "You're NOT my dad, you're just some old guy who hangs around me because you NEED me."

"I need YOU!?"

"Yeah!" Defiantly taking another drink from her flask, a long one this time, draining it and tossing it on the couch. "Whether it's for some weird redemption arc or because you KNOW I'm getting smarter than you and you can't possibly let an asset like me run loose!"

"Jesus christ, Rachel, would you listen to yourself? You sound like-" Rick paused then. Who DID she sound like? Because spouting off grandiose and narcissistic assumptive assessments sounded a lot like….him. "...like an asshole!"

"'You're an asshole, Rachel,'" she mimicked, causing his eyes to bug out in indignance. "Why don't you tell me something I don't already know?"

"You shouldn't drink so much because it kills brain cells, you fucking moron!" Rick was standing now too, and the two of them were shouting at one another over the couch.

"And yet you do it? If you're such a genius, then-"

"When you've seen what I've seen and done what I've done, you GET to try and drown your misery in alcohol!"

"You have no idea what I've had to see and do!" Spinning around on her heel, she stomped off to the garage, cursing the whole way there. That last line made Rick roll his eyes; she was 16, what had she seen or done? He'd destroyed populations, watched friends die, caused a few friends to die….he was allowed to self medicate. She wasn't.

But Rick wasn't about to go chasing after her. She wouldn't have wanted him to anyway. Whenever they had a fight, one of them would retreat to the garage to work on their own projects and the other would do their own thing, and by dinner, it would have probably blown over already. So he just sat back down on the couch, and waited for dinner to roll around. Things would be less shouty and more normal by then.

But by 6pm, things were indeed less shouty, but they weren't back to normal. Rick had already ploughed through all the General Tsao's chicken in the takeout he'd ordered, but Rachel hadn't come out yet for her Lo Mein. And by 8 she still wasn't out of the garage to polish off the rest of the ice cream in the freezer. Rick hadn't even heard her come back into the house to get more booze. He was actually a little worried that she was going to hold a grudge, but what worried him more was the possibility that she had found his stash of off-planet liquor hidden in the garage.

"Rachel, don't touch my-" He stuck his head out into the garage, but was cut off when he saw that it was empty. "Wh- ...shit." Flipping the light on, he found the car still parked in the garage, and everything looked relatively normal. He didn't get it, where had she- ...And that was when it hit him. Patting his jacket pockets, he couldn't find his portal gun. Looking around, it wasn't on any of the work tables or shelves. Ripping drawers open, he couldn't find it. "No, no….shit!" Scrambling to find his sub ether phone, he tried calling her.

"Hey, you've got Rachel," she chirped on the other end, and Rick let out an audible sigh.

"Jesus kid, you- you scared me! Where the fuck did you-"

"Ha ha! Gotcha, this is just my voicemail! You know what to do!" Rubbing his face in frustration, he hung up before the tone sounded to leave a message. So she was gone, took his portal gun, and wasn't even answering her phone, so he couldn't get a lock on her location. Sinking down into one of the chairs at the desk, he groaned as he set his head down on the surface.

"What a fucking pain in my ass." he grumbled, sighing.

"What, the stick you've got shoved up it?" Rick sat straight up as Rachel stepped through a portal.

"Where the hell were you, Rach?" he asked, standing and approaching her as she crossed her arms. "And where the hell is my portal gun?" She rolled her eyes, pulling the gun out of her pocket and tossing it at him. He scrambled to catch it.

"Here's your precious gun," she scoffed. He set the gun down as soon as he made sure it was all in one piece, affixing the teen with a hard stare.

"Where were you?" he repeated.

"You're not my-"

"Not your dad, yeah, I got it. Rachel." Striding towards her and grabbing her by the shoulders. "Genetic progenetation doesn't mean shit! I take care of you. You tell me where you were." He was both stern and calm while he said this, and while he didn't look happy, he wasn't swinging into wild unhinged cursing or anger like he was prone to do. He was serious for once. All Rachel could do was stare, and her scowl slowly broke.

"I just….I was just checking something," she finally said, voice a bit quieter.

"Off planet? Different dimension? Where?"

"My mom's house…" She looked a little sheepish at that. "I walked but, I took your portal gun so I'd have a quick way to escape if he was there." Rick sighed, letting her go and rubbing his face again.

"Don't go there."

"Yeah, I know."

"It'll just make you sad. Trust me when I say this, but sometimes, you wanna go somewhere, see someone so bad, but you know if you do, it'll just….fuck everything up." He had a weird sort of misty look when he said this, but Rachel didn't notice; she was staring at her feet.

"Everything's already fucked up," she said in a quiet voice.

"Yeah, well it'll fuck you up worse." Turning to the door, "come on. It's cold out here."

"Hey Rick?"

"Yeah?"

"...Why did you start this whole argument?" She still looked a little upset, and hadn't budged from her spot. "You've never brought up my drinking before. In fact, you've actively encouraged me to drink more. So…." Rick didn't answer for a long time.

"Just-just get in the house, Rach."

"...Okay."

* * *

 _ **~Episode Two~**_

"You got fat." Rick watched Rachel as she perused through his garage workshop, picking up things to inspect them. Normally, he wouldn't want anyone touching his things, he wouldn't trust them not to fuck anything up. But he knew Rachel. She wasn't like the others. She looked over her shoulder at him, smirking.

"Says the old skeleton. You look even older than when you left." She laughed, shrugging off the big white coat she wore, one very similar in fashion to Rick's coat, actually; underneath she wore a long sweater over simple black clothes. She wasn't the skinny underfed 12 year old he'd encountered over a decade ago, and she wasn't the stringy, manic, alcoholic, amphetamine driven teen she'd been when he'd left. She'd filled out, but certainly not in a bad way. "You look older than almost any other Rick I've encountered, actually."

"Nice." He shook his head, leaning against the doorframe as he took a drink from his flask. Glancing away from her awkwardly, he wasn't really sure what to say next. What DO you say to your ex-protege who came back to try and kill you? "So, gonna finish the job, or what?"

"Gun's still charging up." She shrugged, inspecting the contraption Rick had been working on for a while now, a lamp-looking arm built onto the edge of one of his work tables. "You ever finish this? I remember the blueprints."

"...No, it's not operational." Rick walked over, shoving the arm of the suicide helmet away, swinging it towards the wall. "You scared the shit out of Beth. I mean, you scared the shit out of Jerry too, but, when isn't Jerry scared shitless?"

"Well, I'm sorry to Beth." She smirked, crossing her arms.

"And you put a hole through the ceiling."

"Yeah, I'm kinda good at that." Rick almost laughed at that, but he swallowed it, remaining stoic.

"Why are you here?"

"No one's here for any specific reason. Even you, Rick, aren't here for a reason." She was using his own pedantic drivel against him now, he knew it. God he hated that drivel. He hated that he was the one who taught her that.

"No, I mean why are you HERE. In my garage. Right now." She glanced sideways, walking over to the car; it was a little worse for wear from what she remembered but still looked good. She circled round to the hood.

"Kill you. Thought I made that obvious."

"No you aren't."

"You still powering this thing with my microverse battery?" Popping the hood, she smiled; there it was.

"I've made improvements. You're dodging my question." Rick walked over, slamming the hood of the car shut, staring down into Rachel's face. She stared right back at him, blank, unflinching. "Why are you here?"

"... You remember our last night together, right? Not too old to have forgotten?" Rick didn't have to think hard; of course he remembered. Years of alcoholism couldn't have wiped that memory from his brain, no matter how hard he'd tried. Rachel smirked, looking away first. "I really should have thanked you. It taught me valuable lessons."

"Like what?" Rick asked, not budging, his eyes following Rachel as she walked over to the pegboard on the wall, inspecting the various guns slung carelessly on the pegs, as if each one wasn't a death machine the likes of which this world had never seen. "That I'm an asshole that can't be trusted?"

"No. It taught me that toes are surprisingly dexterous when all you have to shoot a gun is your foot. Also taught me that your other dimensional selves make a lot of mistakes I knew you would never make.". She took out a portal gun from her pocket, not the one she came in with, tossing it to Rick. "Check the serial number."

"J-129C. Huh." Rick caught it with little effort, glancing at the piece of tape across the back scrawled with an alphanumeric code. "How many of these do you have?"

"I take one from every Rick I've gotten. Every Rick who was there that night."

"And I'm the last Rick huh? So, so, just going on your little revenge spree? Somehow, Rachel, somehow- ….I don't buy it."

"You weren't the last Rick, Rick." A look of what resembled hurt crossed her features momentarily. It quickly vanished though. "You were the first."

"Ohhh real deep." He sat down at his swivel chair, looking up at her. "Your quantum destabilizer Ray should be charged up by now. Why don't you just go ahead and shoot me now?"

"But we were having such a good time…." Checking the gun, he was right. Fully charged. And he was inviting her to shoot. But she couldn't. "...I fucking hate you."

"Yeah. I hate me too.". She turned to look at him, clearly miserable for the first time all night. That cold exterior she'd learned to put up from Rick cracked, and it cracked hard.

"Why'd you have to tell the council, Rick? About me?". Her voice wavered ever so slightly as she spoke, and she fought to suppress it. "You knew the other Rachels were dead."

"I didn't tell the council. I don't know how many times I have to keep telling you." Rick leaned his elbows on his knees, stooping and resting his face in his hands. "What did I gain from that night?"

"You never gain anything from your shitty decisions!" Her voice grew louder, and for the first time that night she was beginning to lose control. "You decided to abandon your daughter, and you decided to have me killed! Who knows why you're such a self sabotaging prick?"

"I didn't decide anything Rachel! The universe is chaotic and shit just happens!". Standing suddenly and throwing J-129C's portal gun at her; she dodged at it whizzed past her head. "Take your fucking souvenirs and leave! You don't have the balls to kill me anyway so why are you still hanging around!"

"That's always your excuse, isn't it? 'The universe is chaos!' Wake UP, Rick! You're not fucking stardust!" She was screaming this at this point, gesticulating wildly. "You're not a fucking Neutron star held captive to the whims and actions of the swirling cosmos around you! You're a man, a fucking father, who makes shitty decisions and constantly evades blame! And no one has the BALLS to pin you with that blame because the second they try to hold you accountable you fucking leave, or WORSE, eliminate them all together!" She was breathing heavy as she ranted, and for once Rick was...well, he physically shrunk back a bit. Despite being taller, and generally more inebriated, there was no way he could match the fury Rachel was spitting out right now. She was more mad in this instant than she had been when Rick had portal-hopped away from what he had assumed all those years ago was her death. "And the ONE time I messed up and tried to hold you accountable like a fucking human being, you turned me into the intergalactic force of narcissistic destruction that is the Council of Ricks to be DESTROYED!"

"I didn't-"

"Be quiet!" Hot, embarrassing tears leaked out of the corners of Rachel's eyes and she quickly tried to smear them away with the back of her sleeve. "Shut the fuck up! I didn't come here to kill you!" Throwing the gun full force on the ground, it misfired, shooting a hole through the garage door, a few seconds later a car alarm could be heard going off in the neighborhood. "I came here to see if you had changed! K-9924 told me that the Rick living in C-137, MY Rick, had gone back to one of the Smith families. I wanted to see if you'd really changed!" Wiping her face, scowling deeply at him. "But that was a fucking mistake."

"Yeah, maybe it was!"

"Maybe!" Taking out yet another portal gun, blasting a bright green, swirling portal into the ground. She scowled hard at the ground, before turning a slightly softer expression to Rick, right before she stepped into it. She was still breathing hard from shouting, but calming down fast. "...Maybe?"

"...Definitely." Turning away, Rick reached into his jacket and pulled out his flask. He raised it to his lips like he was going to take a drink, but paused, and glanced back. "...One for the road?"

"That's uncharacteristically generous of you," she said rather wryly, but reached for it all the same, taking a drink.

"Or just uncharacteristically sentimental," he replied, and there was a long silence between them again.

"Goodbye, Rick." Turning again to the portal, she grabbed her jacket, slinging the oversized white coat over her shoulders again.

"If you were a Rick, I would believe that goodbye." Rachel patted her pockets, making sure she had everything. "But you're a Rachel, so you're better off saying 'See you later.'" She just laughed a single, humorless laugh at that, before stepping into the portal in the ground, falling through, and closing it up behind her. And just like that, the garage was quiet again. Rick watched the spot she'd disappeared from for a while, before taking the steps back into the house, and flicking the garage light off. "...See you later, Rachel."

"Uh….Rick?" Morty peeked over the back of the couch as Rick sauntered back into the house. His grandfather didn't awknowledge him, though, as he turned down the hallway and made his way upstairs.

"Dad? Where did Rachel go?" Beth tried to follow him, but was almost shut out as Rick tried to close the door to his room in her face. She was quicker than that, though, and knew better by now; she stuck her foot in the doorway, keeping him from closing her out completely. "Dad?"

"She had to go. Just came for a quick chat," he said, rather unconvincingly.

"She tried to kill you."

"Not really." Rubbing the back of his neck, he spoke facing away from his daughter. "She's unpredictable, rash, a lot like you, Beth. But a lot like you, she could never really hurt me."

"Is she going to come back?" Beth felt a little let down, that Rachel had taken off so quickly. She'd been looking forward to getting to know her better, asking her more questions about her father when he was younger. Turning and seeing the disappointed look on Beth's face, Rick sighed.

"Probably. I said she's a lot like you; doesn't know when to quit."

"I get that from you, though," Beth said, somewhat playfully, as if she was teasing him, but Rick didn't laugh.

"Yeah. She does too."

* * *

 ** _~ After Credits Scene ~_**

Rachel fiddled with the panel in her palm; the damn thing was on the fritz again. There was a lot that Rachel could do that was on par with Rick, and a lot she could do that was better than Rick, but body augmentation had never been her strong suit. It'd been zapping her all night, and she was nowhere near her workshop or the correct tools she'd need to open up the entire arm panel and see what was causing the misfires. For now, the metaphorical 'bandaid' she'd slapped together to temporarily fix the issue would have to be enough.

From the other room, she could hear Rick burp loudly; part of her wanted to laugh, and part of her wanted to roll her eyes. The latter won out. Q-0901 was nice enough, not as offensive as most of the other Ricks. And since his retirement from the Citidel, had gotten just….. REALLY into golf. "Typical old man," she muttered to herself, closing up the sliding palm panel in her hand and sighing.

She'd snuffed out every Rick who had hunted her down, taken a shot at her, pulled a trigger, gave an order, or watched her suffer. Q-0901 hadn't been there that night, hadn't been in the dispatch room, hadn't given the order. But he'd been one of the Ricks that had encountered his own Rachel. That Rachel had only been 13 when Q-0901 had handed her over to the Council. She hadn't lasted very long in their clutches. Rachel wouldn't have even known if Q-0901 hadn't brought it up.

She'd met this Rick at what was akin to an intergalactic bus stop out past the Hendrix Helix in the Crab Nebula. She wouldn't have even given another Rick a passing glance, since he wasn't one of her targets, if he hadn't gotten her attention first.

"Whoa, you're a Rachel!" He had exclaimed. "Damn, look at you, all grown up! Which Rick kept you?"

Rachel hadn't liked the way he'd phrased that; kept her, like a pet. As if any Rick could domesticate her. Her own had tried, and he'd failed so hard he'd had to try and have her killed. He'd failed at that too. But she just nodded, she wasn't in an argumentative mood then. "C-137," she replied nonchalantly.

"You look good! Makes me wish I'd kept my own around!"

"You knew your Rachel?" she asked, surprised. Rachels weren't common. They didn't happen in every dimension. For every hundred Ricks, there was probably only a single Rachel.

"Yeah! Scrawny little thing. Had to turn her over though, she was getting too smart too fast."

"Oh."

"I guess C-137 was better equipped to keep you, huh? He was one of the Ricks who left his family early on, right?" The blase way he'd kept up their conversation, as if what he was saying wasn't deeply offensivce to Rachel really pissed her off.

"Yeah." She discreetly began charging her augment phazer; soon, this Rick wouldn't be taking such a nonchalant tone. But he just smiled, sitting down next to her.

"So, what have you been up to?" he asked, his morty sitting down on his other side; this Morty had seemed younger than your average morty. "Still with C-137?"

"...No, we parted ways." Her pinky finger nail briefly flashed lime green; the phazer was charged up.

"Shame. Hey, if you wanted to hang around me and my Morty, we were just about to hit Blips and Chitz! My old Rachel used to love that place!" Rachel paused then, her eyes narrowing just slightly. She definitely wanted to kill him but….. He was right. Rachels loved Blips and Chitz. Goddamn it, did she love that place.

"...You pay for the first round of Roy 2." was all she had said then. And now, here she was. Why did it always end up this way?

"What is wrong with me?" she whispered to herself, pulling her knees up to her chest. She HATED Rick. She hated him with every fiber in her body. She wanted to kill him, dismember him gruesomely, and yet it always ended like this. She pressed her palms to her face, and winced as her augment sent another little electric shock through her hand. "Fuck, I'm a mess."

"Hey, Rach!" Rick came back into the room holding a couple of beers, even though Rachel had told Rick she didn't drink anymore. "You suuuure you don't want one? It's a Korvelian brew from Korvealis!" He sat down on the bed beside her and waved the bottle in front of her with a sing song voice. "Korvelian hops, Rach! Sweetest in the galaxy!" But Rachel didn't look up, just kept her face hidden in her arms, his knees pulled up close. "Rach?"

It'd been a couple weeks since she'd seen Rick. HER Rick; C-137, or whatever it was he was calling himself now. That hadn't ended up how she'd wanted it to, either. 'Why?' she thought to herself, shrinking away when Q-0901 put a hand on her back. 'Why do I fuck everything up? I've fucked my whole life up; my parents, my siblings. I fucked up talking to C-137 and I've fucked up taking out countless other Ricks. It's always like this, why?'

"Hey, Rachel, what's wrong?" She peeked up at Q-0901; why was he so much nicer than the other Ricks? Was it just that he was so much stupider than the other Ricks? His IQ was still in the genius range but….

"I feel like a preying mantis," she mumbled, which elicited a laugh from Q-0901.

"Why?" he asked, shoving her playfully. She unravelled herself then, her pinky finger nail flashing lime green briefly. Her eyes were puffy.

"I kill everything I sleep with," she said simply, her hand folding away mechanically to reveal the true nature of her augment. Firing once, Q-0901 fell face first (or what was left of his face first) onto the bed; the hole left in his head from the phazer was left cauterized, so there was no blood to clean up. "And I only sleep with Ricks."


End file.
